Friday, February 13, 2015

HEART THREAD 204 & 205


Maddening stillness of the summer air
here as if nobody’s there, nobody cares
I come from wind and you far more
crystal movement of the invisible
emphasis belongs to humankind
gods write the book we put the italics in
the trouble is as with Hopkins’ beauty
it never seems not to be a poem
never a simple language thing that happens by
still seizes the breath or chills the heart
there has to be nobody listening when I speak
so that the words break free to all of you. 

Now of the cicadas from their long sleep
awoke and bred and did and sang and now to bed again
what are we to some glorious animal
eloquent in hyperspace our spit their silver
because we make much of things
art is Latin for the way of making
the way of making is so our only way
childish wits suppose we too were made
no god ever had the art of us
we came out of the sea and from the ground
we mated in bold daylight and we did
and we do.